


In His Hands

by EternalDarkEyes



Category: Free!
Genre: Anxiety, Confrontations, Growing Up Together, Identity Issues, Loneliness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalDarkEyes/pseuds/EternalDarkEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto Birthday Fanworks exchange fill for Unsospiro. The request was: Makoto character study -- it can be shippy or gen; I'd love to see something that kind of covers his growing up and being able to face himself and his future, no matter what that might mean, whether it includes swimming or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gliss/gifts).



When Mrs. Tachibana was first handed her newborn son, she was overcome by emotion. After months of discomfort and hours of excruciating labor, she had born a beautiful son in the middle of a chilly November. The tears that streamed down her face did not stop her from appreciating every ounce of the new life in her arms. Sob after sob escaped her only to join the healthy wale that erupted from the child. Her child.

Mr. Tachibana carefully wrapped an arm around his wife, pressing her weary form close to him. He was so proud of her. The past nine months had been trying on the new couple. Never before had he seen his beloved so sick and so exhausted. Her usual gentle smile had been replaced by fatigued grimaces. She had suffered so much. He could only imagine how difficult it was for her to keep struggling every day. And all he could do was to be quick to serve her and love her even more completely. Finally, now the work could be shared. Now, they could both love their beautiful new baby together.

“Congratulations on your son,” the doctor said dutifully. “What would you like to name him?”

The young couple did not even glance up as the doctor spoke.

“Makoto” they said together.

Makoto cried tearlessly. The world was bright and foreign and he knew nothing of his existence, of his past, or of his future. He could only cry as he was gently held in the hands of his new family.

 

* * *

 

Makoto continued in his development steadily. He grew well within the norms of children his age. By the time he was three, he could run and jump and chatter up a storm. He enjoyed eating whatever he could find off the floor, and had made beautiful marker murals on the walls of his room. 

Mrs. Tachibana loved her little ball of energy like nothing else she had ever loved before. However, that did not keep her from losing her patience as she found the toilet flooding for the fourth time this week.

With a practiced hand, she turned off the hidden nozzle that controlled the waterflow. She then swooped down and pulled Makoto out of the toilet where he had been playing and placed him in the nearby shower stall. Throwing every towel within reach on the floor, she made quick work of the flood waters and then deftly fished out the spongy fish toy out of the toilet. Thankfully, this time around, the water had been clean.

Makoto had already taken off his sodden clothes and waited expectantly for the thorough wash down his mother would give him, much like she had the previous three times. As his mother soaped his body, he did not miss the unhappy look on her face.

“Why was Momma sad?” he wondered. “I don’t want Momma to be sad!”

As she paused in her scrubbing to refill on body wash, he turned and shoved his very soapy self onto his mother.

Feeling little wet arms around her neck and her vision suddenly filled with dewy green eyes, Mrs. Tachibana stilled enough to read her child’s face.

“I love you, Momma!” he all but cried into her neck, his hug tightening.

Already, Mrs. Tachibana could see so much of her husband in their son. Mr. Tachibana could be very sensitive at times, and cried easily. And as her dress became even more impossibly soaked with tears, soap, and bubbles, she gently hugged her son in return. She whispered little “I love you”s into his chubby cheeks and rubbed his back.

As his tears cleared, she shifted him under the showerhead again, and continued in her washing.

“Makoto, honey. I love you very much.” She reassured him again. Her fingers ran through his olive brown hair, rinsing the shampoo from it. “But please remember that we don’t play in the toilet.”

“But Fishie was sad. He wanted to go back to the ocean,” Makoto admonished, eyeing the toy on the counter. “I wanted fishie to be happy.”

“How about this? Let’s go visit Fishie’s home in the ocean sometime this weekend when Daddy is home from work, okay? That way, we can all be happy!”

Makoto’s face brightened, green eyes shining brilliantly. “Momma! Please! Please! I want to go to the ocean!” He all but squealed.

“But,” Mrs. Tachibana cautioned, “You must stop playing in the toilet. Please promise Momma that you won’t play in the toilet anymore.”

“Stop playing in the toilet.” Makoto repeated thoughtfully before smiling brightly again. “No more toilet!” He exclaimed before leaping into his mother’s lap, soaking her once again.

“I promise!” He declared, shoving his pinky finger into his mother’s face. “I pinky promise!” 

Smiling sincerely, Mrs. Tachibana took her son’s pinky in her own. “I promise too!”

 

* * *

 

When Makoto was five, Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana decided that it was time to expand the family. Makoto was growing up to be a very kind, tender-hearted boy. He was quick to help his mother and father without being asked, and would happily chatter while doing so. However, sometimes afternoons could be lonely for a little boy who had so much love to offer. So, Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana decided that it was time for their family to add another member.

This new decision as well as Makoto beginning to really out grow their small apartment also prompted Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana to look for possible new housing options. They had saved a good portion of money, and were looking to possibly buy a house. After a couple weeks of researching and making various visits, they decided on a house that seemed to meet their every requirement. It was a three bedroom, two bathroom house set on the slope of one of the hills surrounding Iwatobi Bay. You could see the water from every window on the south side of the building. There was even a small yard for children to play in. It was perfect.

And so that summer, the Tachibana family moved to the little house on the hill.

At first, the move was hard on Makoto. He had never lived anywhere but that tall, tightly packed apartment building. Suddenly, he had a big room all to himself. It had a big glass sliding door that even led to his very own patio. There also were stairs inside that he could run up and down as many times as he wanted without ever bumping into passing neighbors. And the ocean was just outside. So close, that when the wind blew the right way, he could almost imagine the spray of the water speckling his face.

But no matter how curious this place was, it did not have the grumpy old man who lived next door that often would yell toothlessly at his television. This place did not have the nice lady upstairs who would give him 10 yen if he brought her the newspaper. This place did not have the convenience store across the street that sold his favorite candy.

This place was different. This place was new. And Makoto felt a little scared.

One day, Makoto was playing by himself outside his new home. He was digging a hole to plant some flower seeds his mother had given him. Momma had told him that they were the very same type of flowers that had grown in the big planters around their old home in the apartment complex. She had told him to go plant them in the yard so that he too could help their new house become a beautiful home. 

Dutifully, Makoto dug a hole in the dark soil with the little spade his mother had given him along with the seeds. He carefully placed a couple seeds in the hole, and then shoveled the dirt back in. Patting the small mound gently with his hands, he smiled to himself absently. Leaning back on his heels, he examined his work. He studied the placement of the mound carefully, and could already imagine the big bouquet of flowers that would soon take its place.

“What are you looking at?”

Startled be the sudden intrusion of his daydream, Makoto fell backwards. Quickly, his head swerved to where he thought the voice had come from. On the steps that ran along the side of his house stood a boy. He wore an unimpressed expression on his face with deep blue eyes that watched Makoto carefully.

“What are you looking at?” He asked again, impatiently.

Still a little shocked and feeling suddenly very shy, Makoto stammered his answer. “Flowers. I-I planted flowers. I was w-waiting for them to grow...”

Makoto turned to stare at his dirt mound again, fully expecting flowers to burst out at any moment. The strange boy stared unwaveringly at Makoto.

Feeling the boy’ gaze, Makoto shifted uncomfortably. After another moment, he tried to explain himself again. “They sure are taking a while. I don’t know why they haven’t grown up yet.”

“They need water,” The boy said with certainty.

Makoto gasped as realization dawned on him. He had forgotten to water the flowers seeds!

As Makoto silently berated himself, the other boy spun away from him to run up the stairs. Makoto began to slowly dig up his flower seeds. He had not planted the flowers right, and so they didn’t grow. Now they were dead, and he would have to explain to his mother about how he had killed them.

“Why did you take them out?”

The strange boy had returned. He was standing on the step just beyond Makoto, but now a water bottle was held firmly in one of his hands.

“I killed them. I forgot to water them, and now they are dead.” The corners of Makoto’s lips began to tremble, and his eyes began to water as he looked at the place where his flowers were supposed to be.

“They’re dead?” The boy asked, taking a couple steps into the yard to get a better look into the hole.

“They didn’t grow, so… yeah.”

“They don’t look dead,” the boy seemed to whisper to himself.

Without hesitation, the boy grabbed the discarded spade from its resting place beside the hole. He filled the hole quickly with dirt, hiding the seeds once again from view. He then unscrewed the cap of the water bottle he had brought, and gently tipped it above the new mound. Water hit the dirt with a splatter.

“You think they will still grow?” Makoto asked, not quite convinced that he had not killed them.

The boy simply shrugged his shoulders, blue eyes watching the water as it continued to fall and pool around the dirt mound.

Makoto leaned forward again, and began to reshape the mound with his hands. The mound had become more of a muddy puddle, but he still tried to shape it back into its previous form. Once the water bottle was empty, the other boy bent down and began to help shape the mud too.

They both stopped in silent agreement when the mound seemed to be in good shape again. Sitting cross-legged, they earnestly watched the dirt pile, waiting for any sign of life. The mud on their hands dried and cracked, but still they refused to leave the mound. They watched carefully, and hoped silently.

Later that day much to his disappointment, Makoto learned that flowers do not grow in minutes or even hours. Later that week, he learned that while not watering the seeds meant that the flowers would not grow, using too much water could actually kill them. What Makoto learned the week after as they dug another hole together in a last attempt of growing flowers, was that the blue-eyed boy’s name was Nanase Haruka.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Haru-chan!” called Makoto as he grasped the curved ladder of the playground slide, climbing up it as he continued to speak. “Why don’t we join the swimming club together?”

Haruka glanced at his best friend for a second before he shifted his weight to go down the slide. “Nah, its too much trouble” he responded as he slid smoothly down the chute of the slide.

“But you love to swim, don’t you?” Makoto replied easily, mind slipping momentarily to the many hours they had spent playing in the ocean. While Makoto loved playing in the water, he also loved going seashell hunting, building sandcastles, and climbing seaside rock formations. Haru, on the other hand, seemed completely content with staying in the water. He would swim around and around until someone would call him out of the water or until he decided he was tired.

“I don’t love it that much,” Haruka rebuffed with a sullen face. “If you want to join, then join by yourself,” he said dismissively, watching Makoto’s reaction carefully from the corner of his eye.

Makoto smiled to himself, half expecting that to be Haruka’s answer. “Then I won’t join, either,” he said automatically.

“Why not?” asked Haruka, slightly surprised by the quick answer and decision, curious also as to why Makoto had mentioned the swimming club at all then.

Makoto’s gaze met Haruka’s, and he smiled warmly. Sincerely. “Because there’s no point if you’re not with me.”

Makoto meant this whole heartedly. He and Haruka had become very close friends since they met last summer. He had learned a lot about Haruka as they played together. Haruka had shared with him his favorite spots to look at the ocean. He also taught Makoto how to properly hold his breath under water, and even how to skip rocks off the surface of the sea. Makoto had shown Haruka how to leap down the stone steps between their houses three at a time. He also liked to play with Haruka on the PlayStation he had gotten on his birthday. In fact, Makoto often liked to play with Haruka by trying to figure out his thoughts. Makoto had learned quickly that Haruka did not really like to talk uselessly. So he took it upon himself to try to understand what Haruka was thinking so that Haruka wouldn’t always have to make himself talk.

Now, as they played together on their school’s playground, it was Haru who struggled to understand what Makoto could possibly have meant by that confession. He stepped aside as Makoto made his way down the slide. Thoughtfully, he watched as Makoto stood up from the end of the slide only to turn and smile at him like he had just made some pleasant comment about the weather rather than some embarrassing statement Haru was baffled by.

Strangely also, Haruka’s hands suddenly were itching to dive into some water.

 

* * *

 

Makoto loved watching Haruka swim. He struggled naming the feeling that would ripple inside him as he watched Haruka move through the water. His legs alternating up and down, not to propel forward, but to almost feel the water. Hands reaching forward in his exclusive freestyle stroke, fingers slicing the water with the same precision of a well-sharpened knife. His body melding into the water, as if he was meant to be there.

His close relationship with water naturally was reflected in competitions. Haruka had won several races in the different competitions they had entered together. Makoto had won a couple races of his own, but no one spoke of him the way they did for Haruka. Makoto was not deaf to the whisperings between adults. Words like “prodigy” and “champion” echoing in the large room of the pool area not quite drowned out by Haruka’s splashes. But Makoto knew better. He knew that Haruka was best in the water.

Makoto’s own stroke and kick were incredibly strong movements of power. In the four years that he had spent in the swim club, he had become very well acquainted with moving in the water. But while Haruka seemed to be dancing with the water, Makoto seemed to be fighting it.

There was something in the water. Something waiting.

When Makoto swam, he could feel it there. He could feel it’s presence as he moved forward, his stomach tense as he sensed it just waiting to make contact. Its aura tangling his feet if he was still in the water for too long. Even now, as he watched Haruka swim back and forth, he could feel its eyes on him. And its eyes on Haruka.

The water had tried to take Haruka once before. Only a couple weeks ago in fact. Where usually Haruka would extend his hand towards the water in welcome, the water of a local river had betrayed him and seized forward, spiriting him away from the air and land and Makoto.

Luckily, Haruka was strong. Though he had to spend a couple days to heal in the hospital, Haruka returned to swimming as soon as he could without another thought of the danger lurking there.

But Makoto remembered. His hands remembered as they trembled from their resting place on his knees, fingertips suddenly feeling heavy and cold while palms overheated and sweat. His legs remembered as they hung off the bench heavy, solid, frozen. His shoulders remembered as they drew close to his torso, tense and straining. His stomach remembered as it rolled into itself, painfully twisting tighter and tighter.

Without his consent, Makoto could see it all again. He could see people in white walking in a long funeral procession. He could hear children crying. Wanting back what the water took. He could smell the heavy scent of death on the hands he had used to scoop his two little goldfish up to transfer them from their watery grave to a dark, earthy one. He felt the terror inside him double over, seeming to pull at every string of his being.

“Makoto.”

The trance the water had on Makoto seemed to snap like the plastic around a popped water balloon, and suddenly Makoto could breathe.

Haruka was treading water at the side of the pool. His blue eyes peered over the ledge, goggles pushed back and pressing tightly on his forehead.

“Let’s head home soon,” Haruka said simply once he knew he had Makoto’s attention. Makoto could only smile back, not trusting his body to attempt speaking quite yet. 

Eyes narrowing imperceptibly, Haruka slid his goggles back into place, and took off once again. Next to him, their new friend, Rin, took off after him. His stroke commanding and confident.

Makoto took a deep breath, relieved to feel the air fill his lungs.

Haruka knew Makoto’s fears. Haruka accepted his fears without batting an eye. All one evening as the sun set behind him, Makoto watched as Haruka took in his fears with a calm gaze. He knew that Haruka would never let whatever was in the water win. Haruka would never let the water take him away from Makoto.

Tiredly, Makoto stood up from the bench he had been seated on. His body felt heavy, and he was ready to get warm again in the showers and then head home to a nice meal. He made his way steadily over to the end of the pool to wait to offer a hand to help Haruka out of the water whenever he was ready.

Makoto knew that as long as he was with Haruka, everything would be okay.

 

* * *

 

The night air was still crisp, though promises of spring could be found from the buds on the trees and the green of the grass just beginning to breathe freely again from underneath its pervious snowy confines.

It was early morning, perhaps around 4. Makoto was not certain, too tired to look at his clock. He had been awake for quite a while. He lay on his side, left hand tucked beneath his pillow, right arm extended and pressing against the glass of his patio door. The cold against his knuckles acting as an anchoring sensation as the rest of his body was overly warm from being awake in bed for too long.

But he could not sleep.

Tomorrow was his first day of high school, and Makoto was worried about Haruka. Middle school had been tough on him, and Makoto was nervous about what uncertainties high school held for him. Makoto was not worried about himself, as long as Haruka was there, he would be okay. But Haruka seemed to only become more and more obstinate, curling in on himself and losing himself in his own thoughts.

Makoto mindlessly traced swirls into the condensation that had accumulated on the glass from the warmth of his hand. His knuckle not being the most precise of drawing tools, he ran out of space quickly. He retracted his arm into his comforter, settling into a new position on his back with a sigh. Studying the lights reflected on his ceiling quietly, Makoto could not help but let his mind wander to three years earlier.

As a team, Makoto, Haruka, Rin and an energetic underclassman named Nagisa, had won the swimming medley. Rin had lit a fire in all of them, and their combined desire earned them an experience, a feeling that they had never known before. Then Rin was gone from their lives just as quickly as he had entered it. He had gone to Australia to continue his swim training, promising to see them again when he visited home.

The fire Rin had left in them burned strong, especially in Haruka who continued to swim diligently every day after school. Makoto was pleased to see his friend with such drive.

But one day soon after winter break during their first year in middle school, the fire suddenly went out. Makoto was surprised when Haruka told him that he no longer would be going to swim club anymore, and would be quitting the school’s swim team at the end of the year. True to his word, Makoto dropped out with Haruka as well since swimming without Haruka was pointless. 

Makoto could not understand why Haruka had quit swimming so suddenly. Or, to be more precise, had quit swimming competitively so suddenly. Haruka still loved water to an unusual degree. When it was warm enough, Makoto would go with Haruka to the ocean. Just like when they had been little kids, Haruka spent the majority of his time there swimming. Makoto would sometimes join him, growing braver with each visit. Other times though, Makoto would favor just sitting on the beach to watch. And other times still, his twin siblings would join them, and they would all play together.

Makoto could not help but continue to wonder what had stopped Haruka from swimming competitively.

The past winter had been especially difficult. Haruka’s grandmother had passed away after quietly battling sickness. Haruka’s parents had left him in his grandmother’s care when he was in elementary school, choosing to continue pursuing their careers in more metropolitan areas. Since Haruka’s grandmother was gone, Haruka had to vehemently convince his parents to let him stay in Iwatobi. They had conceded with time, but now Haruka lived all by himself in his grandmother’s house.

Makoto put the extra of effort in being there for Haruka then. He invited Haruka over for meals, sleepovers, or even just to play video games. When school was in session, they would alternate as to whose house they would study at. Haruka developed new skills like cooking and art, and Makoto adored his every new creation, though to be honest he was starting to really tire of Haruka’s obsession with mackerel.

And through all of this, not once did Makoto see Haruka cry. But he could feel a coldness wrap around him. A detachment, an aloofness. So often, Makoto wanted to ask why. Wanted to know what Haruka needed to smile. What could ease Haruka’s soul from the heaviness he seemed to be trapped in.

Makoto knew that he could not ask though. Haruka does not like to talk about his feelings, but Makoto understood enough to know that Haruka was in a lot of pain. It was easier for Haruka to lie and say it was not important and breeze over the ache within him, than to face it and its painful consequences.

All Makoto could do was be there. To offer a smile and an opportunity out of the house. To keep asking his mom to set an extra place for Haruka at the dinner table. To keep an eye on mackerel prices, and drag Haruka to the store just when they happened to be on sale.

He could only offer himself, and keep hoping that it would be enough.

Makoto lifted his arm from where it had somehow ended up resting across his eyes. He took a peek at his clock, and was relieved to see that he had dozed long enough for a significant amount of time to pass. However, despite struggling to sleep all night, his body did not seem ready to leave his bed. He stretched slowly, toes catching on the board at the end of his bed. Perhaps he could try to sleep a little longer. He knew he would have to get up early so that he could rush over to Haruka’s house, who, he had no doubt, would probably be lounging in the bathtub. But Makoto would be there, hand extended, to help him out.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the 2014 Makoto Birthday Fanworks exchange for Unsospiro. It is the first fanfiction I have written in probably seven years, but Makoto is worth it. I had a lot more planned for this story sadly, but due to life constraints, I had to end it here. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> *Edit* I feel absolutely horrible that I left this where I did. Please be on the look out for a part two for this story!


End file.
